Paint
by DarkArts27
Summary: Booth catches Brennan doing something a little unusual, but since when is that a bad thing? BB. Fluff, one-shot. No spoilers.


**A/N: Well, this attempt at fluff was for Miss. Dana (DNAisUnique) for her (belated) birthday. The prompt given to me was "paint", and you'll notice also an Abba classic in there. Please read & review, and let me know how it was. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated :)**

**Disclaimer: Yeah no, not mine :(**

The elevator made a familiar 'ding' signalling that he had arrived on her floor. Striding out, he made his way to the end of the hall to her apartment, a cheerful whistle escaping his lips. It was 9:30 on a Saturday morning, and he figured he'd take her out for the day, let her have some fun, 'cause God knows she deserved it.

Finally reaching the hardwood door, he leaned against the frame, tapping his knuckles rhythmically against it. After a moment of silence, he knocked again, a little more forcefully, just in case she didn't hear him. Again, he waited. Again, nothing. She wasn't at the lab; she'd assured him that she wouldn't go there this weekend. But then again, that didn't mean anything.

Oh God. He had a sudden thought that near made him sick. What if she had a man in there? His heart fell at the thought of anyone else with _his_ Bones. But he was torn; stay, or go? What if she hadn't heard him? It would be rude to leave, not to mention his day would not be nearly as enjoyable. But what if she _did_ have someone in there? If he stayed, then things would not be exactly...comfortable. Weighing up his options, he figured he'd rather hang around, just to check if she was there. If things got awkward, he could just leave.

Removing his keys from his pocket, he sorted through them, searching for that familiar blue key. Inserting it into the lock, he nudged the door open and stepped inside the threshold, the lock clicking softly shut behind him. Wearily stepping forward he examined the visible space of the lounge room, eyes wandering over the various artefacts, pictures and books that adorned her shelves. But no Bones.

"Bones," he called, maintaining his position in the 'safe zone' of the house; not too close to a bedroom or bathroom.

What he heard was not a reply, but it was a voice nonetheless. Her voice.

"If you change your mind, I'm the first in line," he heard, muffled by a wall somewhere in the apartment.

Was she singing? No. He must have been mistaken.

"If you're all alone, when the pretty birds have flown," she continued, her voice gradually becoming louder as he walked down the hallway, trying to pinpoint the room from which her voice was emanating.

He stopped short in front of the door to her spare room, noting the pile of cardboard boxes perched against her bedroom door, and the desk and shelf arrangement sitting next to it. What was she up to?

Always the gentleman, he knocked on the door but was met with the continued fluidity of her voice. When he turned the handle and pushed the door ajar, the sight his eyes were met with almost made him melt.

"We can go dancing, we can go walking, as long as we're together," her voice continued to flow through the apartment.

There she was, clad in denim shorts and an oversized white t-shirt, tied at her hips with the sleeves rolled up. IPod in her ears, paint roller in her right hand, hair in a lose ponytail, bouncing around as she moved her head from side to side as she sang. Her hips moved in tandem with her head, left arm swinging with the beat of the music only she could hear. In all his life, he had never seen anything so adorable.

"So much that I wanna do, when I dream I'm alone with you," she sang, still oblivious to his presence. He found himself wondering if she possibly had someone in mind when singing that line. He knew he did.

"Bones!" he called, reaching forward to touch her shoulder.

At the touch of his hand she reacted suddenly, turning and using the only weapon she had against her attacker. In that split second, time seemed to slow. As the roller struck his face, he felt the moisture of the paint against his skin, and his eyes clamped shut instantly, protecting themselves from the liquid ambush. Caught by surprise, her balance faltered. The alabaster skin of her bare foot was soon encased in a coat of 'Vivaldi' as she stepped back to save herself. Her futile attempt at balance failed as she slid to the floor and a cry escaped her lips, the contents of the paint tray spilling over her legs and the floor.

Booth was quick to react, struggling to wipe the blinding liquid from his eyes as he made his way over to her.

"Bones, you okay?" he questioned, worry etched across his paint-stained features.

Her eyes blinked open, and were met with a nervous Booth kneeling by her side. It was at that moment she lost her composure. Her mouth curved into a large smile and her body shook as she erupted into a fit of laughter.

Someone could have knocked him over with a feather; this was not the reaction he had expected.

"Bones, what's so funny?" he found himself smiling, almost chuckling at the sight before him.

"You...paint...face," she managed in between cackles, still lost in the humour of the moment.

He wasn't sure what exactly possessed him to do it, but he was more than happy with the final result. His mouth met hers suddenly, silencing the laugher that previously echoed throughout the apartment, and causing much of the paint to smudge onto her face. She reacted instantly, her lips opening and her tongue sweeping over his, one hand wrapping around his neck and twisting through his hair, the other holding a fistful of material at his chest, pulling him to her. He'd never tasted anything so amazing in all his life. She tasted fresh yet sweet, and almost killed him right then and there when she moaned into his mouth.

It ended all too soon for either of their likings as they separated for air, hands still holding the other as close as possible. He glanced at her a moment, trying to gauge the reaction on her face. All he saw was flushed cheeks, pink lips, and eyes full of desire. As if sensing his unasked question, a husky "Yes," left her mouth, and she pulled him back to her, capturing his lips as he straddled her.

"Wait," she said, as if suddenly remembering something, "the paint!"

She frantically struggled to escape his hold on her as she noticed for the first time the pool of deep purple paint spilled over the drop cloth, making a beeline towards the uncovered section of floorboards.

"Screw it," he growled as his mouth found the milky skin of her neck and his fingers tangled in her silky strands of hair.

"Not just the paint," she breathed, a devilish smile spreading across her face.

**A/N: Well, hope it wasn't too bad. Review and let me know. Thanks :)**


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